Soon
by kurt couper
Summary: She was The Key and The Key is meant for a lock. She remembered so very long ago when Angelus had told her that she was made for him, but with the way that his body was fitting against hers, she wondered if maybe he was made for her. Dawn/Angelus


Title: Soon

Author: Kurt Couper

Rating: R

Pairing(s): Dawn/Angelus

Disclaimer: Nothing is ever mine.

Summary: She was The Key and The Key is meant for a lock. She remembered so very long ago when Angelus had told her that she was made for him, but with the way that his body was fitting against hers, she wondered if maybe he was made for her.

AN: Let's just think that Angelus was less of a prick when he first came back and was more like we all want him to be-a loving, yet evil vampire who takes care of his family.

Wrote this back in 2008. Just found it on my computer. Cheers!

—

Dawn was 11 when he started to send her presents such as pretty bracelets and rings, still connected to the owner's arm. The gifts would always end up laying next to her when she woke up with a note that always said pretty words that buttered her up and made her feel so special. The note always was sealed with _Soon_. And the promise was kept when he kidnaped her the day after she received a pink, plastic tiara coated in blood. He brought her back to his mansion and dressed her up in a pretty dress that made his Dru proud. "You can't open your present yet, Daddy," Drusilla said sadly, "but soon we all will be able to play with her." The two girls had tea parties while Angelus and Spike watched over them. Angelus would read her stories and Spike braided her long hair. They treated her right; turned a local chef into a fledgling to make her nice meals. "You were made for me. For us," Angelus would whisper to the small girl. Before Buffy rescued her little sister, almost a week later, Angelus had bit her, placed against her collarbone as a reminder to other's, and for herself, whom she belonged to.

By the time middle school hit, Dawn had mostly forgotten about the past and Angelus like it was a daydream. Angel would hardly look at Dawn once he came back from Hell, doing everything in his power to ignore her and avert his eyes. Once Spike became a permanent neutered fixture in the Scooby gang, she allowed herself to think about her time with Angelus and his children. She let herself easily fall into the remembered feeling of belonging and being cared for as Spike became a friend of sorts. He never spoke of her time being captive, but his eyes sparkled as if he had a secret when he talked to her and she'd blush when he remembered exactly how she liked her hair braided. When it was dark and she was alone in her room, she'd remember Dru calling her mommy and she'd trace Angelus' bite. She knew that whatever it was that had happened was best to be thought of only in the shadows.

Yet, it wasn't too long until she saw Angelus again. She was home alone for the first time in her life, being a full 15 years in age, and she was just about to watch The Soprano's when the doorbell rang. It turned out to be Angel who she let in to tell him that Buffy was off patrolling. A wicked, feral look sparked in his eye, which was just the time that Dawn noticed Angel wearing leather pants. Before she knew it, he had pinned her against the stairwell, kissing her deeply. It was as if he was eating her alive. "It's been too long, little one," he had told her as he roamed under her shirt. "I'm very bad at being patient," he smirked as he palmed her small breasts. Enthralled with these feelings, she had let him touch her in ways that no one had ever done. The brunette cried loud into the night as she peaked from her first orgasm. "A forget-me-not," he murmured happily, lapping up his fresh bite mark and his fingers. The soul-less vampire was just about to kiss her again when suddenly he was knocked unconscious and fell like a log to the floor. "Angelus!" she cried as she ran over to him, dressed in only her underwear. Yet as soon as his eyes shot open, Dawn knew he was different. He showed nothing but disgust as he slowly returned to his feet. Horrified, he did nothing but turn right around and left the house, leaving a very lost teenager in his wake.

In the short months that followed, Dawn found out her whole life was a lie. She was nothing but energy encapsulated in a human shell with fake memories and the only people on the planet who were made to love her… died.

This was the time where the in-between was lost because her mom was dead and her sister died to save her and The Key was all alone in the world. In the beginning, the Scoobies would mourn together, having grieving parties in the Summer's living room. She felt most alone while watching them come to terms with Buffy's death. Like always, she was on the outside looking in. This time, though, this time Spike was also on the outside and the two became inseparable. The Scoobies stopped coming over; stopped looking her in the eye. She tried not to let it cut her to the bone. She belonged in the dark. She couldn't breathe around them. They were too… pure. She was a dark creature; she had to be evil, finding comfort in the arms of Angelus' own childe. The monks that made her could have implanted any memories they wanted, yet they knew the only place where she would ever feel at peace was in the shadows- with _them_. She painted her bedroom black and put light blocking curtains to hide the sun. Some days she wouldn't leave her bed, finding comfort in her dreams where Angelus would whisk her away from this nightmare and Dru kiss her on the cheek and whisper _soon_.

Then Buffy came back.

And Dawn was alone again, but even more alone than before. Because this time, Spike wasn't around. Instead, he was chasing Buffy and Dawn was alone in the dark. It hurt worse. To be replaced, to be used and forgotten. Aches began in places that she didn't know could be hollow. Even her arms throbbed with the thought of being empty. The darkness settled in like a disease.

Within three weeks of Buffy being back, Dawn was arrested for stealing at the mall. A week later, she was rushed to the hospital because of alcohol poisoning. Buffy just sighed over the situation, tired of it all, and called Angel. "I can't handle her anymore, Angel," Dawn heard Buffy speak into the receiver. She was sitting in the dark and couldn't breathe. "Just take her for a little while." Three days later, Xander was driving Dawn up to see the souled vampire.

It didn't take long before Angel set down the law so Dawn could break them. With his presence there, she felt broken. Everyone leaves; everyone left. Angelus, who wanted her when no one else did, was gone and replaced by this man wearing the same face. Her sister, who died for her, couldn't even be in her presence anymore. Spike, who promised until the end of the world, hadn't even looked Dawn's way for three weeks. The first night she was at Angel's, she snuck out a bit after twelve and came back in around 6 in the morning, completely rolling. Angel tried to reprimand her, to control her. Instead, she kissed a double dose of E in his mouth and passed out against his feet.

Five hours later, the brunette woke up against deep sapphire sheets. Her skin melted in the satin fiber as she woke up to Angel stroking her hair away from her face. "Angelus," she whispered, still delirious from the drugs running in her system. But as she smiled, her busted lip reopened from her previous fall and blood pooled to the top. "Little one," he growled, sucking the offended piece of flesh. Dawn moaned, rubbing her hands up and down his torso, wanting to feel him. Craving it. "I miss you," she spoke to him soft and sweet. With his eyes heavy with the thick lust of his double hit of ecstasy and his body responding to the sensation of this pure, beautiful female beside him, it wasn't too long until he gave the brunette a deadly smile and untapped the passion that he knew she had in her.

Her body was sore when he was through with her, so much so that even the thought of more fucking made her insides hurt. But oh god was it amazing. Angelus had told her that once the drugs wore off that he would turn back into his soulful counterpart but she reassured that she could obtain enough happy-pills to satisfy themselves. "Mine" he whispered through her skin and lavishly explored her body. But he stopped once he reached her thin, pale arms, laced with gnarly white scar tissue. "Who hurt you?" He was straight, precise, and angry. She hadn't cried since Buffy came back and with his fingers tracing her scars, she broke down into sobs.

"You will stop this," he demanded after she told him everything. He kissed her skin and worshiped her body. In the peak of climax, she offered her neck to him and the sensation was so great that she bit him as well. And he promised that she was his, her body now his property, and she gave herself fully to him. His large, rough hands caressed his body as if she was the prayer to his sins.

They talked and fucked and worshiped and cried out through dawn 'til dusk. With the drugs colliding together in her systems, her world blurred into one with his. For those split seconds where she forgot where she was and she remembered nothing, she felt as if she was one with the body beside her. As if it took two hearts and two brains to function as one. As she came apart against him for, what seemed, the hundredth time that night, she gave into her body's craving and let sleep become her.

Nearly ten hours passed until she woke up again, the ground moving too fast under her. "Fuck," she groaned as she turned her head towards her left and was greeted to a vampire with a soul. It was all she dreamed about, nightmares upon nightmares upon nightmares. Stuck in the same loop of souls and brooding. It never ended. The monks had given her this, given her a taste of what it all could have been, and she couldn't even have it. There was a weight in the pit of her stomach, settled and festering and bubbling. Angel's grip on the steering wheel tightened and there was nothing she could do to stop this inevitable change. This paradox. Every mile her body grew heavy and raw as she watched the bright lights from LA transform into the inky night. Her heart ached for the demon beside her and everything he could give her, but this impostor was not the one she wanted.

Once she got back, she realized something had changed within her. Buffy narrowed her eyes more at the brunette as if she was trying to figure her out. Spike looked at her like she was a ghost. Other vampires wouldn't even cross her path. Over a course of a few weeks, it almost seemed as if her body was going through withdrawal with shakes and fevers. Her skin felt foreign to her body. Her brain was filled with static and noise, always busy, always a mess, always screaming his name. Her body was hollow and it felt as if she needed something to fill it, to complete it. Her dreams of Angelus left her unsatisfied and raw. There was never not a time when she didn't feel him.

She poured over thick, dusty books Giles' had left. This had to be something related to Angelus, the Key, something. The Watcher Diaries had only two pages that described what she was experiencing but no description on how to stop it. Angelus had claimed her, mated her. She was now Angelus', in soul and heart, body and mind.

She hadn't slept in two weeks and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She didn't know what to do. How was she supposed to live like this? How was she supposed to live without him? And she didn't know how she got there, but the next thing she knew she was outside of Angel's door in the pouring rain.

"LET ME IN!" she screamed, her weak and shaky fist pounding on the door. "Angel!" she sobbed, "Come out here and FIX THIS!" Her body slumped to the small ledge-like stoop. "Just fix me..."

And it wasn't long before he came back from patrolling and scooped her up into his arms. Unconscious and soaked with rain, he brought her to his room. If she was awake she could have felt his gentle hands as he peeled away her clothes and heard him sigh at her thin and scarred body. Once he placed one of his shirts on her, he tucked them both into his bed because he knew she needed his contact, his presence to heal.

In her sleep, she felt him, breathed him in and filled up her cells with his essence. Every goose bump of her flesh was singing in praise of Angelus. And she held on to him like she was dying and perhaps she was and, fuck, what a way to go because she was so satisfied right now. This was how it was always meant to be. And she was shaking and lately it's always because withdrawal but this time it was different and it felt good and his skin was too smooth beneath her hands and she just wanted to sink down into him and never leave.

With their bodies melted together, she was desperate against him. And it seemed by their own accord, his large, broad hands roamed over her expanse of skin. Dawn pooled under his fine tuned ministrations and for the first time in so long, she felt whole. Slipping two fingers inside of her, she rocked against him, gripping his flesh, feeling this orgasm rocking her from a place too deep. And she kissed him wherever she had access to; she was in a frenzy and a haze and couldn't see and fuck, there were stars busting under her eyelids and she passed out of exhaustion on top of him, curled and mingled into his body parts.

She kissed him awake when she realized this was the first morning that she hadn't vomited. And she moaned when he grabbed the back of her head and slammed her lips to his. But, like everything dealing with Angelus, it didn't last too long. Before she knew it, he broke apart and threw her across the bed in shock, her head crashing against the side table as she fell on the floor.

Her world went dim.

When she awoke, his nose was dripping blood and he was popping his left shoulder back into place. His presence was still making her head swim with endorphins, so much so that she could barely feel the gash on her forehead. "You're bleeding on me," she complained as he examined her skulls for cracks. He quickly lapped up his blood and a bit of hers and gave her a wolfish grin.

"Angelus?" she whispered, too hopeful as she ran her hands across his face. He blinked.

"He cares about you," the soul-boy whispered half in awe and half in disbelief.

She felt her body tingling, responding to his words and the way he held her tight. When his fingers began to run through her hair, she thought she could have purred. Was this love? Was this obsession? Was this because of the bite? She felt as if this was the reason she was put into this body. This is what she was meant for. She was The Key and a key was meant for a lock. She remembered so very long ago when Angelus had told her that she was made for him, but with the way that his body was fitting against hers, she wondered if maybe he was made for her. Maybe he was her lock.

"Angelus and I had a little chat," he said and lapped up more of the blood seeping from his nose. She curled her head on his chest and placed her ear where his heart should beat. "We have come to an agreement."

"The stars say that it's almost time," Drusilla exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. She oh so loves it when things are going her way. The stars are buzzing and humming and happy. She's happy too and not just because of their whisperings. She turns her attention back to her Spikey who is chained to the bed. She grins wickedly. He looks so beautiful all black and blue, pain seeping from him. It had been a very long time since she had seen him and even longer since she had the pleasure of making him scream so prettily.

"The icky Slayer ruined everything," she pouts. Running a knife down his torso, she slowly laps up the blood left in its wake. "She was never meant to come back. Ruined the stars' plan. Made you all…" she stops and trails her hands down to his hard cock, "muddled."

"You mustn't enjoy your punishment, lovely," she chides and palms his cock. He groans and she gets that pleasant itch down below that Spike is so good at scratching. She frowns and shakes her head. Scratching is what got him into this trouble to begin with.

She drips a trail of holy water down his upper thigh. He screams and writhes against his restraints, his skin festering and oozing. His pretty cock is still all hard but his eyes flutter behind his eyelids. She runs the blade across his chest again and uses her human teeth to bite below his nipple. The stars had said he must repent and Drusilla has enjoyed every second of it. Her boy had been very, very naughty making their sweet dollie mummy cry and having sticky relations with the slayer. Once she gets the slayer out of his blood, the stars will fix what was suppose to be.

She pouts again, bored now that he's passed out. He's no fun to play with if he doesn't make delicious noises. She licks the remaining blood from his chest and lies next to him.

"Don't worry, poppet. Daddy is coming back," she whispers. "And Mummy will be happy." She kisses her sweet boy on the cheek and smiles. "And we'll be a family again. Soon."


End file.
